Konoha’s Five-Element Ninja

Chapter 27: The Year 41 of Konoha

With every obstacle removed, Hiruzen Sarutobi finally stepped out from the shadow of the Second Hokage, Tobirama Senju. He began sweeping reforms, reshaping Konoha into his vision of what it should be. History, like a doll at the mercy of its owner, stumbled forward, showcasing Sarutobi's grand designs.

On the surface, Konoha seemed to be flourishing under Sarutobi's leadership. Sunagakure had been pushed back home. Kirigakure was pinned at the borders, unable to advance. The Fire Country's dominant position, earned through the blood and tears of Konoha's ninja, was secured once more. The village hummed with praise for the leadership, radiating an image of prosperity.

But beneath this veneer, voices of dissent lingered. Many questioned the capability of Sarutobi's administration. The war, dragging on for years without a clear purpose, had worn down the village's ninja. They longed for an end to the bloodshed, a return to peace. But with the loss of the Senju clan, Konoha's strength had diminished significantly. The village lacked the power to dictate the course of the war. Instead, it relied on its vast resources to outlast the enemy. This protracted struggle bred dissatisfaction, and desertions became a daily occurrence.

In the year 41 of Konoha's calendar, the village formally recognized Hanzo as the ruler of the Rain Country, signaling the end of that war. Around 2,000 ninja were redeployed to the Wind Country, determined to deal a decisive blow to Sunagakure.

Amidst a vast desert in the Wind Country, Hayama lay buried in the sand, leaving only his eyes exposed. From a distance, there was no trace of his presence.

It had been two years since the Senju clan's retreat. In that time, Hayama had fought on the front lines, only once returning to the village to recover from serious injuries. The prolonged strain had taken a toll, pushing him to the edge of his endurance.

In the scorching desert heat, the sun's relentless rays baked the earth, making the sand dry and searing. Hayama was forced to coat his body in a thin layer of chakra to ward off the heat.

As time dragged on, just when Hayama could bear it no longer and longed for a drink, the faint sound of footsteps reached his ears, instantly putting him on high alert.

When a large foot appeared near him, Hayama sprang from the sand, his short blade crackling as it slashed forward.

Caught off guard, the Sunagakure ninja never imagined an enemy would leap out from underfoot. Panicked, the ninja reflexively drew a kunai to block.

But to his horror, the kunai snapped like a twig, and the short blade plunged into his chest.

As blood splattered onto the hot sand, Hayama yanked the lifeless body as a shield, deflecting incoming kunai. Moments later, he heard the cries of the Sunagakure ninja behind him.

With a resigned sigh, Hayama tossed the corpse aside and turned to see who had helped.

Konishi Kaku stood over another fallen Sunagakure ninja, pulling his bloodied blade free. He flicked it clean before flashing a faint smile. "You're too slow, Hayama," he said, nudging the dead Sunagakure ninja with his foot. "I got two of them. Guess tonight's meat's mine."

"Sure, sure." Hayama felt a twinge of frustration—what else could he say?

Having easily dealt with the Sunagakure squad, Hayama and Konishi Kaku prepared to return to camp.

As he watched his apprentice walk ahead, Konishi couldn't help but smile. Over the past two years, he had taken Hayama under his wing, imparting all his combat techniques and ninjutsu. Konishi had poured his heart into training Hayama, and the young man hadn't let him down. Though not an exceptional prodigy, Hayama's relentless dedication had molded him into a capable ninja.

It might be time to let the fledgling fly on his own.

Recalling the recent influx of reinforcements from the Rain Country, Konishi knew the decisive battle was nearing. The time had come to release Hayama from his tutelage.

"Hayama," Konishi called out.

"Yeah?"

"Once we get back, go see Sakumo-sama. You're ready to graduate."

Hayama had seen this coming, but he still felt a pang of reluctance. His years in the Wind Country had been the happiest and most fruitful of his life. Under Konishi's guidance, he had overcome his weaknesses in ninjutsu and mastered chakra nature transformation. He had grown into a capable, independent ninja.

Halting his steps, Hayama turned back to look at the mentor he'd rarely called "sensei." Sniffing, he muttered, "Understood."

"Don't go getting all sentimental on me!" Konishi barked. "Just because you're graduating doesn't mean you're free to slack off. I'll find you if you disgrace my name!"

Hayama: "..."

Sure, there were only two of them in this so-called "school." What was Konishi bragging about? Still, Hayama made a mental note to never let anyone know that Konishi snored and hogged all the meat rations…

At the Konoha camp's command tent, Sakumo Hatake was busy stamping documents. In truth, most of his current duties involved paperwork—an unfortunate side effect of Hiruzen's reforms, which had significantly curtailed the powers of front-line commanders. Winning battles didn't bring much reward, and losing them meant taking the blame. Commanders had become little more than puppets on a string.

When Hayama entered the tent, Sakumo's face lit up. "Perfect timing!" he exclaimed, tossing his stamp to Hayama and grabbing a cup of tea.

With a resigned sigh, Hayama began stamping the stack of papers. As he worked, he casually explained why he had come.

Sakumo listened attentively, his expression growing serious. After some consideration, he said, "Wind Squad just lost Shimura Shinji yesterday. You'll take his place."

Hayama recalled brief interactions with Minato Namikaze. Unlike his ordinary appearance, Minato had striking blond hair and a sunny disposition that made people feel at ease. Joining Minato's squad would be an interesting change, Hayama thought. Given that Minato was being groomed by the higher-ups, his squad carried significant political weight. It wasn't a team just anyone could join. But if Sakumo said Hayama would take Shinji's place, then it was as good as done.

Since aligning himself with the Uchiha faction, Hayama had experienced firsthand the benefits of having a powerful backer. Resources were readily available, and prestigious opportunities—like joining a high-profile squad—seemed to materialize out of thin air. It was a stark contrast to the struggle he had faced before.

Still, Hayama knew to keep certain things unsaid. On the surface, his opportunities came thanks to Konishi's recommendation. No one mentioned the Uchiha connection aloud, maintaining a delicate, unspoken understanding. Even Sakumo kept his distance from the Uchiha, outwardly loyal to Hiruzen's administration.

Such was the intricate dance of politics in the ninja world.

...

Later that evening, Minato sought Hayama out and led him to their team's quarters.

The tent was small but tidy, with no trace of the sweat and grime that pervaded the rest of the camp. Instead, a faint, pleasant scent lingered in the air. Hayama was impressed. In the harsh, water-scarce Wind Country, it seemed almost impossible to maintain such a clean, fresh environment.

"This is your bed," Minato said warmly. "Here, let me help you set it up." His friendly smile was as comforting as ever.

Hayama tried to refuse, but Minato insisted, leaving Hayama to watch as his new leader busied himself with the bedding.

"Don't the other team members stay here?" Hayama asked, breaking the silence.

Minato paused, his smile faltering slightly. "They're from clan families. They have separate accommodations. It was just me and Shinji before."

Shinji, full name Shimura Shinji, had reportedly been cut to pieces by enemy Wind Release just the day before. It was a grim reminder of the danger that awaited Hayama in his new role.

When Minato finished, he wiped his hands on his uniform and extended one toward Hayama. "Welcome to the squad, Hayama."

Hayama took Minato's hand in a firm shake. He didn't say anything—just nodded solemnly.

In the 41st year of Konoha, beneath a simple but inviting tent, two hands clasped. No one could have predicted the storms their owners would one day unleash—nor when humanity's endless conflicts would finally come to an end.